HPGB 2: Secrets of the Bell
by Meredith A. Jones
Summary: The sequel to Harry Potter and the Golden Bell! During summer between years 6 and 7. CHAPTER 2 IS UP! I need reviews! Please read! I'll read one of yours!
1. Escaping Again

Harry Potter and the Golden Bell 2: Secrets of the Bell  
Chapter 1  
Escaping Again

**A/N:** (eats Goldfish crackers) mmmmm  
Disclaimer: I wish I owned it, but sadly, I don't.  
another A/N since the other one was pointless: This is following year six and in the summer. So this is the sequel to Harry Potter and the Golden Bell, and if you haven't read that one, do so before reading this. I like this idea, so READ!

_August 6, 1997_

Harry Potter sat quietly and cramped in his wardrobe one night at eight o' clock PM, his fingers wrapped around a black flashlight that had been purchased at the store downtown where everything was skimpily priced. The cheap residents of the town shopped there, in hope of finding a cheap price on things that the larger stores priced expensively, when it cost that store a small amount of money to make in the first place.

Harry held a book in his other hand. It was one of the many literature books that were in his possession. This one had been from Hermione, sent to him for his seventeenth birthday. His other friends had sent him gifts as well. Ron had sent Harry a load of sweets and a few glass bottles full of butterbeer along with a pair of boxers with tiny golden snitches embroidered onto them. The snitches flitted their wings, flying around the navy blue cloth at all hours of the day, even while lying in the bottom of one of the drawers of Harry's small dresser. The candy that had come with the present had been put to good use too, especially now, whilst he sat reading in his closet, and chewing on a large orange hunk of 'Madame Gardener's Simply Scrumptious Saltwater Taffy.'

The book that Hermione had sent was about dangerous magical creatures, such as dragons and giants, and was entitled: _Known Magical Creatures From the Year 1892 Forward_. It was very interesting and very long, thus making it contain over 824 pages. Harry had also gotten a few chocolate frogs from Neville, and a poem and a box of chocolates from Luna. He had almost sprayed the butterbeer from Ron that he was drinking, all over Dudley the morning he read her poem.

Fred and George had sent a small model of the Quidditch Pitch at Hogwarts. This model had plastic figures of the whole Gryffindor team on their broomsticks, the figures flying about the Pitch, and getting hit by bludgers now and then, just like a real game. Harry's plastic figure was making laps around the stadium, holding up the shining golden snitch proudly, the rest of the school also moving and cheering in the stands for him. Harry had looked for Ron and Hermione in the stadium, and when he had found them, he smiled. He missed them both, what with Hermione only coming back at the end of the school year, only to see Harry for all of a few days before he had to be sent back to the Dursley's lovely abode on Privet Drive.

Mrs. Weasley had sent him another sweater. This one had many different blues all knitted together, with a big yellow_ H_ on the front. All of these, of course, came with a long letter about the happenings in the wizarding world.

Anna-Nicole's present was that of a large book of romance poems. Harry had thumbed through the gigantic book, reading poems with titles that caught his eye. Most of them were fluffy, some sweet, but all and all the book was just a thoughtful gift.

The Dursleys didn't give Harry a toothpick this year for his birthday. This was usually his gift for Christmas also, along with every other holiday there was, and Harry was beginning to think this was a hint, so he started brushing his teeth more often. He guessed that it paid off because each member of the stuck up family had given Harry their own present. Dudley had given Harry his old Playstation, as his parents had bought him a Playstation 2 for his birthday. The gift had come with a single game bearing the title: _Captain Young's Great Adventure_ and according to the summary on the back, it was for children four to eight years old. The game found itself in the trash can seconds after it found itself in Harry's hands. Aunt Petunia also gave Harry a book entitled: _How to Decorate Your Sun Room in 10 Easy Steps_ and since Harry didn't have a Sun Room, this found itself buried deep under some laundry in the corner of his room. Uncle Vernon, however gave Harry some flowery barrettes with a note saying: "You won't have to use these anyway because you'll be getting a haircut from your aunt real soon. I can assure you that. -Vernon".

Tonks and Lupin sent Harry a present from the both of them. It was a golden snitch with his name engraved into it: Harry James Potter. This went straight into his Hogwarts trunk.  
Hagrid even sent a present. It was a statue of Harry, carved out of wood. According to the letter that was enclosed with it, he had gotten into wood carving and decided that that was what he was going to get Harry. Cho had even sent something...it was only a letter, but it was enough for Harry. He wasn't used to many presents anyway.

Harry jumped at the sound of a loud rock beat from across the street. A family had moved into the house, and were having a party to celebrate. The Dursleys were not fond at all of them, because of their...interesting personalities. The man of the house, Mr. Allen Greenfield stood a little under six feet and was a bit plump, but of course not as much as Vernon Dursley. He had only a few long strands of hair left on the sides of his head, which he gelled together and crossed over his bald, polished head. He was about 45 years old. The woman, Mrs. Helga Greenfield was a little more chubby, with short curly brown hair. She had a large bosom and wore tons of makeup, and also about 45 years of age. They had a sixteen year old daughter, Alice, and a 10 year old son, Jeffrey. Alice complained all the time about her parents and life as a teenager, and about leaving her friends in the town a few towns away. She also complained about not being able to wear makeup, and not being able to have a boyfriend until she was twenty. Harry thought this humorous, of course, because she didn't have squat to complain about, compared to his problems. Jeffrey was a little demon and took everything from Alice. Once he had taken a picture of the boy that she fancied back in their old town and drew all over it. The argument could be heard very clearly from across the street, and Harry sat near his bedroom window listening for something to do that day.

The family had moved in on August first. They had planned the party the day after and invited everyone on Privet Drive, and were a bit disappointed when the Dursley family had turned down the invitation.

Harry switched off his flashlight, and pushed the door open of his closet, and stepped out, holding his book, thumb wedged between the pages of the spot he had left off. He went over to the window, set down his book, pages down, on his desk, and pushed up the glass frame. He then stuck his head out, to see the house, lit up like a jack-o-lantern, with colored lights coming from the backyard. It was very much contrasted with the square houses on the street, all equally lit, some with all lights off. Those families, most likely, were attending the party. Harry heard a simultaneous pop and a scream, then laughs and a fizzle, indicating that someone had just opened a bottle of wine. The loud music was blasting, a bit muffled by the distance of the stereo, and the faint breeze blowing the sound around in the air. It was blowing onto Harry's face now and he closed his eyes. He felt weightless now, the wind gently touching him. He lost all thoughts, and the music stopped, leaving him in peace for a few moments...

_Click, Click_. Harry turned his head and saw the doorknob turning, and the locks on his door opening. Someone was coming into his room. He tiptoed silently to his light switch, turned off the light, and closed himself back in his closet. The door opened and Vernon tramped in, and turned on the light. He looked around the small room and scowled as Hedwig hooted quietly at him from her cage.

"Where are you?" Harry's Uncle's voice boomed across the room, the sound bouncing off the walls and echoing slightly. "Come out, come out where ever you are." He walked to the bed, kneeled down with difficulty, and flipped up the blankets so he could get a view of under the bed. No Harry.

"You're here somewhere. There aren't many places to hide." He stood up again with a grunt, and looked at the wardrobe, then stepped over to it and pulled at the handle. Harry made a quick move to the other side, now standing. Vernon scowled again and closed that door, then opened the other one. Harry moved again. This went on a few more times when finally, Vernon did the common sensical thing and opened both doors at once. Harry stood there like a deer under headlights for a few seconds, while Vernon gazed menacingly at him from outside of the closet. He finally seized the front of Harry's shirt and pulled him out of it.

"What were you doing in there, boy?" Vernon sneered.

"Reading. And getting away from yours, Aunt Petunia's and Diddy-Dums's ugly faces," Harry retorted pompously. His uncle's right eyeball bulged in its socket and his lumpy face tinted purple.

"Your aunt will be here any minute," he said in a softer voice.

"Oh, we're having Marge over again," Harry said smirking to himself. He wasn't afraid of any of the Dursleys anymore and he just thought of the whole family as a joke and merely laughed when any of them got mad at him. He hated living there, but he acted like he liked it most of the time to make his "family" mad.

"No," said Vernon, "Your mother's sister, Elizabeth. I told you this last night after meeting those people across the street in their house." It was easy to tell that the man was getting more and more frustrated by his nephew's blank reaction. Though it was blank, however, Harry was deep in thought. He was told, years ago, and repeatedly following that, that the Dursley family were his only living relatives. Why couldn't he have gone to stay with Elizabeth?

"And how did _she_ treat my mum?" He asked, finally, hoping to get a good answer out of his uncle.

"Exactly how I treat you."

"Muggle or Wizard?"

"What do you think?"

"Brilliant. Can you please let go of me now?" Vernon uncurled his pudgy fingers from the black fabric that was Harry's T-shirt. The music from across the street started again and he grabbed at the bits of hair on his balding head, that he had left.

"When will it cease?" He grumbled, waddling over to the window. He stuck his large head out and shouted at the neighbors.

"TURN OFF THAT BLOODY NOISE! BEFORE I COME OVER THERE AND STOMP ON YOUR HEADS!" _Well, that's welcoming_, Harry thought, _I'm sure I'd love to hear that nonsense when I first move into my house_. Once the large man was finished yelling at the neighbors, he pulled his head out of the window and went over to Harry, shaking a chubby finger in front of his face.

"I expect to see you downstairs in under a minute. If I don't see you there, you're going to lose some privileges."

"What privileges do I have already?"

"Downstairs. You have thirty seconds," said Vernon ignoring the last remark. He made for the door and stopped when he got there. "And brush your hair!" he added, then went downstairs.

"Okay, Vern," said Harry off-handedly.

"DON'T CALL ME VERN!" Harry shook his head. He looked at himself in his tiny cracked mirror on the wall of his room and to him, he looked fine. Equipped with his golden snitch boxers underneath his jeans, he opened his door and went downstairs.  
His aunt hadn't arrived at Number Four yet, and really, Harry was quite interested in this aunt, who he didn't even know existed. She was one of his mother's sisters, and maybe, just maybe, Uncle Vernon had exaggerated a bit when he talked about how she had treated his mother Lily.

---::---

Harry descended the stairs and saw Dudley playing with his Playstation, which was actually now Harry's, as it was his birthday gift, in the living room.

"Isn't that mine now, Duddums?" he asked, unaware of the name for his cousin that had just come out of his mouth. He was quite used to calling him everything other then Dudley, and he hadn't for about a week now, or most likely, for a longer period than that. He had said this, while making sure that his aunt and uncle stayed in the conversation that they were in, about what was on the television.

"Quiet. I'm trying to concentrate. You're not helping," said Dudley, deep in the video game.

"Can I play? There are two controllers, you know." Harry said conversationally. In reality, he didn't want to play, but he liked tormenting his cousin and making him lose concentration when he was trying extremely hard not to; it was hard for him to concentrate at times. Almost always, in fact.

"No!" exclaimed Dudley, probably not knowing how loud that he had said it, his temper rising and his last particle of patience getting sucked into the game. Harry walked in front of the living room television screen, stepping over the cords, to the other controller, lying on the floor less than a foot away from Dudley. He had lost track of where his airship had drifted because Harry had been in the way, an explosion was heard from the speakers, and when Harry moved out of the way, large capital letters spelling: **GAME OVER** flashed onto the screen.

"Now look what you did!" shouted Dudley, throwing his controller to the floor in front of him.

"It was bound to happen anway," said Harry, standing up straighter, as he had been bending over to get the second controller, "Your shields were close to nothing."

"You're close to nothing," grumbled Dudley. Harry narrowed his eyes at his cousin. The doorbell rang, closely followed by Aunt Petunia, fluffing her hair and walking into the living room.

"Don't quabble, you two. I don't want you to embarrass me in front of my own sister," she said, glaring, to them as she passed. Vernon followed his wife from the kitchen and unplugged the TV from the wall. Dudley's mouth dropped open as he watched the screen blacken. He looked up at his father, who stood, swinging the plug around in his hand. Harry smiled and chuckled a bit. This time his uncle hadn't done something that angered him so. He wasn't so happy when Vernon caught him laughing, though. His eyes widened and he growled at Harry, "I thought I told you to brush your hair!"

"You did," said Harry back, the smile faded off his face. Before Vernon could say anything in response, Petunia's excited voice could be heard from the foyer. Moments later, her sister walked into the living room, Petunia following her.

"Welcome, Elizabeth, to our home. You haven't seen me since i got married - this is Vernon, and our lovely son Dudley."

"Hello," said Vernon, a smile growing on his face. He shook Elizabeth's hand while Petunia looked at Dudley.

"Say hello, Dudley, don't be a prick, now."

"Uh..hi," Dudley muttered, heaving himself off the ground and to his feet.

"My word...is that Harry? Lily's son?" inquired Elizabeth.

"Yes," said Petunia vaguely, "Yes it is, would you come sit down on the couch? I'll bring out some coffee and the hors deurvres. Do you take cream and sugar?"

"Yes, that would be fine. So, how old are you now, Harry?" asked Elizabeth, sitting down. Uncle Vernon's left eye bulged at the friendly conversation between the two and he tensed up immensely.

"He turned seventeen at the end of last month," Vernon said gruffly.

"The boy can talk, let him answer." Vernon's hands curled into fists and he went into the kitchen for a heated conversation with Petunia. Dudley peeked through the door, grabbed the plug of the TV, and plugged it back in, continuing to play his video game.

"So, are you going to Hogwarts next year?" Harry nodded. "Seventh year," he said timidly.

"Are you now? I always liked that magic stuff. Your mother oftentimes scared mum and Petunia with it," said Elizabeth chuckling a bit, "She was good at it - not much for personality, but she was a good witch, she was."

"How much cream do you take, Elizabeth?" asked Petunia from the kitchen.

"Just a drop, Petunia, I like it strong. And two cubes of sugar. Come sit down, Harry." She patted the cushion next to her and Harry sat there.

"What do you mean, "not much for personality"?" asked Harry, curious. He didn't know much about his mother, just a load about his father, and he was anxious to squeeze information about her from any possible suspect that he could talk to.

"Well, your mother was real stuck up, she was. Couldn't make up her mind about anything. I guess she had a fair amount of friends at that school, but no one in the Muggle world. All that kept me close to her was the witchcraft. And you know, after she met that James, she got more ditzy that she used to be. Falling over things, stumbling on the stairs. I don't know. Thank you, Petunia." Aunt Petunia had come into the living room with two mugs of coffee, giving her sister one. So...that was it, was it? If Harry's mum hadn't have been a witch, Elizabeth wouldn't have spoken to her at all. He thought about this for a few seconds, before a large hand slammed down on his shoulder. Uncle Vernon, who had obviously come out from the kitchen, left eye twitching madly, had done it. Harry put his hand on that shoulder and looked at his uncle behind him.

"Go wash up," he snarled, his nostrils flaring briefly. Really, he looked menacing now. It was probably the talk of magic in his house that was affecting him. Harry nodded and took for the bathroom.

---::---

"Have you heard anything from Violet, Petunia?" Elizabeth asked her sister. _Who's Violet?_ thought Harry, _Some other relative of mine that I've never heard of? _Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, Harry, Dudley, and Elizabeth were all sitting at the dinner table, no one talking until Elizabeth had piped up. Harry looked at his water glass. The contents were sloshing around a bit, the loud beat coming from next store was shaking the entire house. The table was also moving about its spot in the rug every time the beat sounded; it was vibrating the rest of the time. The lamp on the ceiling was swinging back and forth slightly and creaking faintly on its chain. Uncle Vernon was clutching the bottom of his chair with his left hand as though he were going to fall off of it at any given time; his right hand stayed gripping the serving spoon that went to the mashed potatoes, his eyes bugging and his mustache twitching.

"No...not - not recently," answered Aunt Petunia, twirling her spaghetti on a silver fork. "V-Vernon? Can you please pass the mashed - "

"I am _SICK_ and tired of these rotten people!" exclaimed Uncle Vernon finally, raising from his seat. The family members seated at the table all jumped a bit. "Coming to our house late at night, and at odd hours of the day! Their loud party across the street! I've had enough!" Harry looked from his uncle to the hook on the ceiling that was holding the chain that the lamp hung from. The top link of the chain was moving so much that the hook screwed into the ceiling was beginning to bend under the weight.

"Um...Uncle Vernon," started Harry, looking back to his uncle, who ignored him completely.

"I am going over there right now to straighten things out!"

"Vernon, don't make a scene," said Aunt Petunia under her breath.

"I'm going to make a scene, Petunia! Those people have been - "

"Uncle Vernon!" Harry cried.

"WHAT?" He looked at the lamp when Harry pointed. It slipped from its hook and came tumbling down towards the table.

"CATCH IT!" shouted Uncle Vernon, as Petunia shrieked. But it was too late; the lamp had fallen straight into the bowl of mashed potatoes. Dudley screamed as well and sunk down in his chair as if hiding. Vernon let the serving spoon slip from his hands. Harry took the lamp out of the bowl and set it on the table. He picked up the bowl of potatoes and held it to his chest, so that the contents were pointing outwards. He then took his wand from his denim jacket he was wearing.

"_Accio Glass_," he said. he dropped his wand on the table and held onto the other side of the bowl with his right hand as the little pieces of glass flew from the table, one by one into the bowl. Aunt Petunia gave another high pitched shriek while Dudley whimpered and Elizabeth covered her mouth with her hand - concealing a smile. Once all the glass was in the green mashed potato bowl, Harry set it on the table beside the broken glass lamp. There was only a short silence, and then Vernon shouted.

"I THOUGHT YOU WEREN'T ALLOWED TO USE MAGIC OUTSIDE OF THAT FREAK SCHOOL OF YOURS, BOY!"

"He's going into his seventh year," said Elizabeth calmly, "He can now." Uncle Vernon's face turned a light purple and he went over to Harry.

"Do you remember two summers ago when I told you to 'get out'?" he growled. Harry nodded. "And you couldn't because the messages sent with those owls?" Harry again nodded.

"WELL MAKE UP FOR THAT SUMMER AND GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!" he yelled in Harry's face, who winced slightly.

"GO SOMEWHERE! ANYWHERE, I DON'T CARE! NOT HERE! JUST LEAVE! AND WE DON'T WANT TO HEAR FROM YOU OR YOUR BLASTED OWLS EVER AGAIN! EVER! DO YOU HEAR? NOW GO!" Harry stumbled out of his seat and glanced at Elizabeth, who looked a bit disappointed.

"Goodbye," he said politely. Vernon took a sharp intake of breath and screamed over Elizabeth's quiet "goodbye."

"NO GOODBYES! GET OUT! OUT, OUT, OUT!" He snatched up Harry and carried him to the stairs. "Now pack up your things and go. I do not want to see you on our stoop ever again. I don't want you to step foot in this household ever in the future. I've put up with your tosh since you were a year old and I'm not putting up with it any longer! Take all of your belongings and your big white ball of feathers and leave us alone." Harry shot up the stairs and began packing. He dragged out his Hogwarts trunk and threw everything into it. He shouldn't leave, but he had to. It was time. The Dursleys didn't care about him at all and there was no point in staying just to be abused while he could be in his world in a house with his parents, who wouldn't have been killed by Voldemort. If that hadn't have happened, Harry wouldn't be famous, nor would he have a scar, and nor would he have Voldemort chasing after him. He would be going to Hogwarts with Ron and Hermione and staying over their houses during the summer. He wouldn't have had to ever lay his shoes on Privet Drive. It was a good choice anyway. How much had they helped them when he had had his dream? How much did they care?

---::---

A few minutes later, Harry dragged his trunk and carried Hedwig in her cage down the stairs and went back into the dining room. He looked at Aunt Petunia when he got there.

"What?" she asked, trying to sound frightening, but was choked up instead, "You heard your uncle. Go." Harry turned to Elizabeth. "It was nice meeting you." She nodded and smiled a bit. Harry lugged everything out of the door onto the doorstep and looked across the street at a yelling Uncle Vernon. He was yelling at who looked like Mrs. Greenfield. Harry smiled to himself. _They won't see me again, anyway_, Harry thought. He walked across the street and stepped up beside his uncle.

"Hello," he said.

"I know you do. It's just - Harry!" exclaimed Mrs. Greenfield in mid-sentence. She, unlike everybody in Muggle England, but for a few exceptions, liked Harry. Vernon's head snapped to look in his nephew's direction.

"What are you doing here?" he snarled, trying to sound more like an unhappy parent, rather than his usual deranged englishman.

"Just came to say goodbye."

"I don't want a goodbye!"

"Not to you." Harry looked at Mrs Greenfield. "Goodbye," he said.

"Well, where are you going?" she asked, putting a hand on his shoulder. Vernon tensed up and went pale. If anyone on the perfect street found out that the Dursleys were mistreating Harry, they'd be completely shunned by the families on the street. They were very worried about this.

"Well, I seem to have been kicked out."

"Kicked out?" She looked at Vernon, who looked as if he was about to strangle Harry, and he would have, if it hadn't have been for Mrs. Greenfield. "You kicked this poor boy out of your house? When he has no where to go? WHAT IS THE MEANING OF IT? WHY WOULD YOU COMMIT SUCH AN ACT?"

"Goodbye, Mrs. Greenfield," said Harry, as Vernon looked at him scowling.

"You little snitch," he said faintly. Mrs. Greenfield continued shouting at Vernon, as Harry smiled a bit and began walking down the street. He walked for a long time, until he found a bus shelter. He moved underneath the roof of it and sat down on the cold bench. A few seconds later, it began raining. Harry opened his trunk, got out some parchment and a quill pen, and wrote:

_Dear Ron,  
It seems I have been booted out of the Dursleys and I am sending this to you in hope of some relief from your family. If you could please come down here some time soon to the bus stop at the corner of Bradley and Greeves to pick me up, I would greatly appreciate it. I expect a response. Thanks, mate.  
-Harry  
P.S. Write Hermione and tell her to come with you. If she can't, just make sure she's at the Burrow when you come back with me._

Harry rolled up the paper and tied it to Hedwig's leg with some scrap string.  
"Take that to Ron and make sure he writes a response as soon as he gets it. Get there quick, Hedwig, I'm counting on you." Harry patted his owl's head, pulled out some owl treats, fed one to Hedwig, who hooted happily and sailed off through the rain. He put everything back into his trunk and closed it, then hugged himself to keep warm. Lightning flashed across the sky, and he realized he was all alone without Hedwig. All alone until he got a response back from his best friend.

**A/N**: Kind of long, but you'll see where it goes...The next chapter is back a few days, so you know what had been happening.


	2. Moving Vans

Harry Potter and the Golden Bell 2: Secrets of the Bell

Chapter 2

Moving Vans

A/N: I'm glad I **_FINALLY_** got 5 reviews. I wasn't going to post until I did and THANK YOU to: Kat, HeWasTheirFriend, Wolfgirl64, PhelpsFan04, but not as much to dobby.

and this is a little longer...just read it. It's good, you're going to want to. I hope. Actually in case you're wondering, I have like...3 more chapters written. I haven't done anything with this in a LOOONG time. I saw National Treasure and that was it. I'm working on both of those. Once I get some reviews and I eventually post all the one's i've written, THEN I'll write. By then it'll be July and I'll be in the mood again because of HBP. Anyway, READ.

_July 29, 1997_

_Dear Harry,_

_How are you? Summer going fine so far? I'm sure it has been. I've been allright myself. Mum went to visit Fred and George at the "Wheezes" yesterday. She didn't look too happy when she came in, that being the result of shock that came from a 'Goblin-In-A-Box'. Fred put it in her hands when she came in, and the thing exploded out of the blue box, frightening mum to death. It was pretty funny, actually. But, she got on fine inside after that. I reckon she was a bit proud of them, though. Having starting their own joke shop. Next time she sees you, I hope she thanks you for giving them the money to start it._

_Hermione's here. She stayed over the last two nights, and she's leaving tomorrow. She told me that she'll be writing you a birthday note. Happy Birthday, from me, anyway, if I don't write after this. I don't think there'll be a need to write tomorrow. I'm writing this now because I have nothing else to do. Hermione's in Ginny's room with her, Fred and George are at the "Wheezes", Mum and Dad are trying to figure out how to work the television that dad bought in the Muggle world, and I'm stuck here up in my room. I don't even know what Percy's doing, and I honestly really don't care. Mum still twitches when we mention him. Bill and Charlie are in Scotland together on a bit of a holiday. They wrote and said that they'd be coming to visit soon._

_This is getting a bit long, and Hermione wants to go outside anyway. I'll see you next year, mate._

_Hope you're well,_

_Ron_

_Harry Birthday from Molly, Arthur, Ginny, Ron, Fred, and George._

_P.S. Hope you like the presents we sent._

_July 30, 1997_

_Dear Harry,_

_Hello! How are you? I'm fine. I slept at Ron's last night and the night before that, and now I'm back in the Muggle world. I'm just writing to wish you a Happy Birthday and send this present. I hope you like it...it's a good book. I've read it maybe three times, and it's still in mint condition. I don't need it anymore, so you can have it. I'm sorry if I'm writing this a bit rushed, but I have a haircut scheduled and I need to leave for that in a few minutes, then we're going to my grandmother's and sleeping over. I'll write again. Have a good holiday and don't anger the Dursleys too much. We might not see you next year. (Really shouldn't be joking about that...)_

_Wish you could have been here with me and Ron,_

_Hermione_

_P.S. Read chapter 7...you'll find something of interest in there._

_July 30, 1997_

_Wotcher, Harry! Tonks here to wish you a Happy Birthday! Oh, and Remus too. He's a tad too lazy to write his own letter, so we're writing one together. We bought this gift for you together as well, each paid for half the price of the gift and to get it engraved. Hope you can use it soon! See you when I see you!_

_Tonks and Lupin_

_P.S. I wrote Dumbledore yesterday and applied for Defense Against the Dark Arts. I don't think he'll mind me teaching. I might even be able to stick around. I don't think I'm a Death Eater, a fraud author, a werewolf, an imposter, or an evil fat woman, so it's probably a possibility. I didn't think of it last year, or I would have applied. I heard that Snape took over the classes that year. I send many condolences and antidotes to cure your damaged soul. Anyway, I hope to see you next year!_

_July 30, 1997_

_Dear Harry,_

_How have you been? I've missed you so much. I can't believe that I have to wait a month to see you again!_

_Happy Birthday! I sent you this book..I didn't know what else to get you, I'm very ashamed to say. It's a little fluffy, but some are actually cute. I skimmed it two nights ago and bookmarked the ones that I thought that you would like. Hope you're getting along allright._

_Much love,_

_Anna-Nicole_

_July 29, 1997_

_Oy, Harry!_

_Happee Birthdae. I been into wud carving latly an i deciderd desidid desidded decided to carv sumthing for yoo. It's yoo! Do yeh lick it? I hop so. I reckon the owl had a hard time carrien it, thow. Aneeway. I'll be seein yoo necks year._

_Lov,_

_Hagrid_

_July 29, 1997_

_Dear Harry,_

_I'm sorry I couldn't get you a present. I spent all of my allowance on a new broomstick before I remembered your birthday. After all, I did graduate and everything and I do deserve a little treat. I hope I can make it up to you somehow. I'm really sorry._

_I won't be seeing you much now that I'm out of Hogwarts. Maybe we can get together sometime this summer or next summer...maybe I can come to Hogsmeade during one of your Hogsmeade weekends. We could meet at Madame Puddifoot's again. I'd like that very much. Don't hesitate to bring Ron, Hermione, or Anna-Nicole with you, they're welcome. You have to write me though so I know when you'll be going._

_Please send a response, I haven't gotten much mail lately...Cedric's have obviously stopped coming - he'd write me letters all the time. Anyway...Happy Birthday and I hope you have a good holiday!_

_Love,_

_Cho Chang_

_July 30, 1997_

_Dear Harry,_

_I miss you very much. I enclosed a poem. Happy Birthday._

_Love,_

_Luna_

_July 30, 1997_

_Harry -_

_Happy Birthday, Harry. I hope you are doing okay at the Dursleys and everything. I sent you something to drive your aunt and uncle nuts...and also for you to eat. I hope you have a good birthday_

_-Neville_

_Harry,_

_You won't be needing this because you'll be getting a haircut from your aunt real soon._

_Vern_

_Harry,_

_This may be of use to you when you get a house of your own. Hopefully this is in the near future._

_Aunt Petunia_

_That thing that lives in my house -_

_I won't be needing this anymore, since mum and dad got me a Playstation 2. You can have this...and I'm giving you 'Captain Young's Great Adventure' since I haven't played it since I was five. Too bad you don't have a television to plug it into._

_Dudley_

-

_August 1, 1997_

The Dursleys sat at the dining room table in the morning at 9:00 eating breakfast. Harry had stayed up late the night before reading the beginning of Hermione's book and getting through the first 100 love poems out of the 1000 in the book that Anna-Nicole sent. She had been right, most of the poems were good, some pretty gushy though. Some were so gushy and stupid that Harry laughed out loud, or until his eyes watered. Interrupting Harry's laughing at a poem called: 'The First Time I Saw You' and the murmur of conversation downstairs in the living room at breakfast the morning after, a low rumbling sound came from the end of the street that got louder and louder as it got closer to Number Four. Uncle Vernon's mustache twitched as he looked in the direction of the living room window, scowling.

"What _is_ that infernal racket" he growled, getting to his feet and going to the window. "Trucks! Huge Trucks! Two! _Three!_" Petunia joined her husband and moved the curtains so she could see as well.

"Moving vans," said Aunt Petunia. "The Smiths must be moving out."

"And the people didn't even have the decency to tell us" said Vernon with a huff. Dudley stood this time and went to the window. Petunia moved the curtain again so all three could see. The movers took everything out of the house and put it all into the three trucks parked outside the house. Harry ignored the sounds from across the street and went on reading. After a few hours, the trucks left. In that span of time, the Dursleys had been relaxing in the living room. After another hour, however, another rumbling came from down the street. Uncle Vernon lowered his paper and looked out the window. Two more moving vans pulled up to the house across from Number Four and Vernon frowned again. "I have had enough with these trucks."

Harry put his book down and went to his window. He thrust it open and stuck his head outside. It wasn't real exciting to him - new neighbors. On Privet Drive, if some snobby and stuck up family moved out, that would only make room for another snobby and stuck up family to move in. He pulled his head back into his room and went downstairs. His aunt, uncle, and cousin had resumed their spots at the window and were watching the trucks filled with the new neighbors' belongings empty, the movers carrying the things into the house.

"That carpet would look good in our bedroom, Vernon." said Petunia. She looked at her husband, who was squinting to get a better look at the carpet's design. "Wouldn't it?" She looked back out the window.

"If it was a lighter purple it would," Uncle Vernon finally returned.

"What's that statue of, mum?"

"Where, Diddley?" Dudley pointed out the window at a large pale statue. Petunia gasped and slapped her hand over her son's eyes.

"Is breakfast over?" Harry asked, jumping in. Petunia looked at him, hand still covering Dudley's face. He turned his head too, and Petunia put her hand back to her side.

"Thank you for finally gracing us with your presence." snarled Vernon angrily. Petunia peered back out the window, uninterested in Harry's entrance, and began poking her head every which way to get a proper view of a large sofa that was being lifted out of one of the trucks.

"You're welcome," said Harry cooly. "Now, are we having breakfast or not?"

"Breakfast has been over, boy. You can't have any anyway because your rudeness has earned you confination to your bedroom until further notice," said Vernon.

"Why, so you can nose around the neighbors' things?" snapped Harry. "And it's confinement. Confination is not a word." he added. Uncle Vernon turned his usual shade of purple.

"One more crack like that and you'll be sure that you don't want to be alive."

"Oh, I'm already very sure of that." said Harry. He turned on his heel and ascended the stairs to his small bedroom, then sat at his desk and leafed through his birthday letters. He took out Tonks's and Lupin's, smiled a bit, picked up a quill and opened his inkwell, then took out some parchment and flattened it on his desk.

_August 1, 1997_

_Dear Professor Lupin,_

_From you _and _Tonks? What, are you living together or something?_

_Thanks so much for your present...I can't wait to use it, thank you!_

_I hope that you do get the DADA job at Hogwarts, Tonks. (I'm sending this to the same place assuming that you and Tonks are in the same place) I'd love to see you again and to see you teach. That'd be quite interesting._

_We got new nei_

Harry stopped writing when he heard a crash and a yelp. Then, someone, a woman, began yelling at the top of her voice. He got up from his chair and walked to the window - he had left it open the last time he had opened it - just a few minutes ago.

" - YOU PEOPLE ARE DIRTY ROTTEN SCUM THAT DON'T DESERVE TO BE CALLED 'MOVERS!' WHY, IF I COULD, I'D MOVE MY OWN THINGS, BUT CONSIDERING MY AGE AND STATE, I CANNOT! THAT WAS MY GREAT GRANDMOTHER IN THAT URN AND IF I WERE YOU, I'D SWEEP IT UP! NO! DON'T EVEN! YOU'LL SOMEHOW SHATTER THE ASHES TOO, NO DOUBT! HEY! WATCH IT WITH THAT ROCKER!" Harry climbed out of the window and latched onto the wooden trellis lining that side of the house.

"Frankly, I think you're _off_ your rocker, ma'am," replied the mover in monotone.

"Oh, you do, do you? Well, I think you're full of rubbish!" snapped the woman right back.

"The only rubbish I'm full of is yours," said the mover, now impatiently. "If you'd like to move it, be my guest. If not, keep shushed."

"Oh, don't_ you_ tell me to shush!" Harry climbed down the trellis and made his way towards the woman and the mover, who had the name 'Joe' embroidered into his light blue shirt. "I'll fire you if I have to!" The mover, frowning, gave up and walked back to one of the large trucks and fastened his hands on a small end table.

"Hi," called Harry, now crossing the street. He waved, and the woman looked at him.

"Why, hello there. You live across the street, don't you?"

"Yeah."

"Sorry for all of the racket...it's just..." the woman rolled her eyes and let out a breath quickly. She looked down at the ashes of her grandmother's mother on the sidewalk and her lips flattened into a line, much in the fashion of Professor McGonagall. "These movers, I don't know," she finally said. She looked back up at Harry, coming out of her daze.

"Anyway, you have a name, don't you?"

"Harry."

"Hello, Harry. I'm Helga Greenfield."

"Hello, Mrs. Greenfield." She looked at the top of Harry's head. She was undoubtedly looking at his hair, that hadn't been brushed in nearly a week now. She unexpectedly smiled and looked back down at his face.

"I like your hair," she said"It's...free. Most people keep every hair in line...every solitary strand pulled back into a bun or ponytail...or curled perfectly. Except of course...my hair (she fluffed it a bit) is naturally curly. I can't help but to keep it perfect. Anyway, would you like to come inside." Harry looked behind him at Number Four. The window was dark, no one behind it. The family had obviously lost interest in the new neighbors and decided to do something else. When he did this, he also made sure his scar was covered, not feeling up to making up a story about how he got it if the subject came up.

"You live with the Dursleys?" Harry nodded. "Are they your parents?"

"No, I'm actually their nephew."

"Really." He nodded again.

"Are you visiting for the summer?"

"Er...sort of."

"Sort of?"

"Well I live with them during the summer and go to school from the first of September to June."

"And your parents? Surely they see you some time inbetween."

"I don't er...have parents. They died in a car crash a year after I was born."

"Don't have any pa - " Mrs. Greenfield screwed up her face and put her hand on Harry's back. "Hang on...come on, Harry, let's go inside." She began up the walk, Harry at her heels, hurrying along trying to keep in Mrs. Greenfield's pace. The foyer was very empty, save for a few things, including a mirror and half of a table standing on three legs underneath a hanging clock with long bells coming down from it. There was also a tilted picture, carelessly hung on the wall. The rugs were green, like the Dursleys' rugs in their foyer, except for with a different design. There were flowers and leaves scattered on this design giving it a more natural feel. The foyer in this house was also a lot bigger than the tiny one in the Dursleys' house. Evidently, even though the houses on Privet Drive looked exactly the same on the outside, they weren't entirely the same on the inside. When they passed the steps, Mrs. Greenfield halted, then took a few steps back. She looked up the flight of stairs, where loud music and shouting was coming from.

"Could you wait down here a minute? Unless you want to come...I just want to make sure my children aren't mutilating each other." This phrase certainly put a bad taste in Harry's mouth...he wasn't sure if that was quite the description of fighting children he expected. The short woman made her way upstairs, Harry again following. She went to the room with the door that the music and shouting was behind. (A/N: Do you have any idea how long it took me to make that sentence right? (glances at clock...it says: 12:30 AM) Hm...) She opened the door, revealing clearly a girl's room, the resident of the room's possessions scattered all over the floor. There were posters plastered on the walls, suitcases and bags littering the floor and on the bed of which a small boy was happily jumping on. By the side of the bed, with her hands on her hips, was a sixteen year old girl; she looked none too pleased with her little brother's current actions. The music, that had gotten louder when Mrs. Greenfield opened the door, changed to a different song with a loud, deep, continuous rock beat. A synthesized melody followed, then some drums, and so on.

"Mum, will you tell him to leave me alone?" the girl shouted over the music.

"Jeffrey! Get out of your sister's room! Go on, you have your own to put in order" Mrs. Greenfield lifted her son off of the discombobulated bed and set him on the floor. At this, he ran out of the room, yelling. She rolled her eyes and muttered, "Ten year olds..."

"Stupid brother. He's such a git, mum - why haven't you dumped him on the street yet?"

"Alice, what a rotten thing to say!"

"It's true. Ugh, I hate my life." Alice threw a disgruntled look at her bed and did a double-take at Harry.

"Who's this?"

"This is Harry, Alice."

"Wait...Mum, is that ? "

"Yes." Alice ripped a poster off of her wall and Harry unmistakably saw a half of his glasses, one of his green eyes glinting behind it, vanish behind her back with the poster. She blushed and risked a careful smile.

"Sorry..." Harry started slowly, "But are you...er...wizards?"

"Yes, Harry, we are," said Mrs. Greenfield smiling a bit.

"But you look so like Muggles - I mean, I don't intend that to be an insult - but...the people in your posters aren't moving..."

"Mum's a Muggle-born," said Alice before her mother could speak. "She knows what everything's supposed to look like. Dad's a wizard so he didn't when he met mum, but she taught him alright."

"Where is Mr. Greenfield?" Inquired Harry, looking at Mrs. Greenfield.

"He's probably out back installing the birdbath." she responded nonchalantly.

"Er...installing?" No one gave Harry an answer to his half-question, because a mover, grunting, carried a naked statue of a woman's body (which was headless), up the stairs. He stood it properly on the floor and caught his breath, leaning on it.

"Where do you want this?" he finally gasped.

"Oh, bring it back down to the living room, that'll be fine." The mover named Greg gave a moan of agony and heaved the statue back down the long flight of stairs.

"So, if you're wizards," said Harry, somewhat ignoring the mover's interference with the conversation, "Why did you move here?"

"Well, you see," said Mrs. Greenfield, "My husband, Allen, just got a job at the Ministry in the 'Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office.'"

"Oh, then he knows Arthur Weasley?" said Harry.

"Is he the other one that works in the office?"

"Yeah...he and some Perkins bloke. Do you know the Weasley family?"

"Not personally...but I hear they're not exactly an asset to the wizarding community." Harry sighed. He had told people numerous times that the Weasleys were a good family. So what if Arthur liked muggles and he was a pure blood? That's no reason for someone not to like the lot.

"One of their sons is my best friend. They're great to me and whoever you heard that from ought to actually meet them before they judge them. Anyone who gets friendly with them stays friendly. They're really nice people."

"Well I'm glad my husband's not working with a nutter," said Mrs. Greenfield. Jeffrey ran into the room and faced Harry.

"Can I see your scar?" he asked. Harry moved his bangs to reveal his old lightning bolt shaped scar, more easy to with the fact that the new family wasn't a bunch of Muggles with funny ideas about magic folk in their heads.

"Cool!" Jeffrey exclaimed as Harry covered it back up.

"Come on downstairs, Harry. Jeffrey - room - now. If I come upstairs and you're not unpacked, there'll be some serious consequences." Jeffrey nodded and sent a farewell to Harry, then left the room.

"Alice, turn down your music a bit dear and finish unpacking as well."

"Yes, mum. Bye, Harry," she added, smiling.

"Goodbye," said Harry. Mrs. Greenfield guided him out of the bedroom and down the stairs into the living room where they sat on an overstuffed couch covered in plastic.

"You know, Alice has a real liking for you," said Mrs. Greenfield"Are you at all dating?"

"Er...well, I'm not dating, per se...but I have a girlfriend...I...I think..."

"Oh...alright, that's quite alright..." Harry sensed that she was a bit excited to change the subject, so he took the liberty of doing that himself.

"Does she attend Hogwarts?" he asked.

"Yes, she's in Hufflepuff house."

"Does Jeffrey?"

"No, I'm afraid he's non-magic," responded Mrs. Greenfield, disappointment in her voice.

"Oh...i see."

"So. Harry. Are the Dursleys treating you well?"

"It...um...depends on your definition of the word," said Harry, smirking a bit. "Considering I snuck out my window and climbed down the trellis on the side of the house to escape the bedroom that I've been confined to, I don't think that's too wonderful. They probably think I'm still in my bedroom, the big dolts."

"What did you do?"

"I mouthed off to my uncle and he put me upstairs. It's not unusual. But, they're really nice, don't get me wrong - they just don't like me." Harry didn't know why he had said that after he did so. He wanted everyone to hate his aunt, uncle, and cousin. They were awful, rotten people.

"Why not?"

"Well...my Aunt Petunia was a bit frightened of my mother because of the fact that she was a witch. I guess the family's just frightened of the entire scene, actually. Whenever I do anything of the sort, they scream and ground me."

"I see...well, I just thought that they'd be at least a bit sympathetic towards you since...you know."

"I'm toying with the fact of my aunt being a squib...but the more I really think about it, it doesn't sound possible. It might be: she knows a lot about the wizarding world. Er...do you read the Daily Prophet?"

"I did. But then they started printing those dreadful things about you and Dumbledore. That was the last straw for me," said Mrs. Greenfield rolling her eyes a bit. "I cancelled my subscription after that."

"So, you believe me, then?" asked Harry brightly.

"Of course I believe you. If I didn't believe you, you could have knocked me over the head with an ox and I wouldn't mind. At least I wouldn't remember not believing you and you could convince me to." Harry thought about that for a moment, not quite processing it right.

"POTTER!" Uncle Vernon's voice was as clear as a bell even if it was coming from across the street. Harry was somewhat glad that the conversation had been interrupted: he had been receiving images in his mind of lifting an ox by its leg and swinging it into Mrs. Greenfield's face.

"Er...I have to go. Thank you so much for everything. I'll see you later, I guess." Harry stood and made for the door. Mrs. Greenfield followed.

"You're very, very welcome, Harry. Thanks for stopping by - and don't get in too much trouble," she said, shaking her pointer finger in front of his face.

"Oh, I'm sure I will," said Harry. he opened the door and stepped onto the porch. He saw his uncle in the window of his room. He had obviously come in to check on Harry, and realized where he had gone.

"YOU GET OVER HERE RIGHT THIS INSTANT!"

"Bye, thank you." Harry jumped off the stoop, jogged across the street, and stepped into the house. Uncle Vernon met him in the foyer and pulled him by the collar, in plain view of Helga Greenfield, into the kitchen.

"Here he is, Petunia. He climbed out of the window and went to those people's house." Harry grabbed onto his uncle's enormous wrist and thrust him off of him.

"They're nice people! If you don't like them because they got their stuff to their new house using moving trucks, you're completely insane!" retorted Harry. Another grumble came from outside before Vernon could respond.

"THOSE THINGS BREAKING THE SILENCE EVERY 10 SECONDS!"

"It's been longer than that," said Harry. "What's wrong with _your_ wristwatch?"

"Get upstairs, Harry," said Petunia very firmly, "and stay there until dinner." Harry looked at his aunt, the thought that she was possibly a squib fresh in his mind, nodded, and left for his bedroom. When he got there, remembering his unfinished letter, he shut the door and sat at his desk. He picked up his quill, read it through once, and continued where he left off.

_ghbors. I snuck out of my window today to go check them out and they're real nice. I haven't met the father yet: he was outside "installing" the birdbath when I was over there, but next time I talk to them, I'll probably get a chance to meet him. He's supposedly working at the Ministry in Mr. Weasley's office. I hope they get along; Mrs. Greenfield mentioned something about the Weasleys being unliked by the wizarding community._

_I'm off to write more thank you responses, so I'll write you later, after you write me back._

_Best wishes,_

_Harry_

Harry set the letter on a blank part of his desk and picked up another piece of parchment.

_August 1, 1997_

_Dear Hermione_

_Thank you..._

He wrote responses until he ran out of people to write to and found a few things to do up until dinner. First, he found a proper place for Hagrid's statue, behind the framed picture of his parents and next to the lamp on his bedside table. Then, he read some more poems, bounced a ball off of his wardrobe until his uncle yelled at him from downstairs, and laid on his bed staring at the ceiling and thinking for the rest of the time after that until he was called downstairs for supper. The meal was slow and boring. Aunt Petunia had made a macaroni salad, a sad bowl of lettuce, and some ham. Harry didn't speak a word, but kept his head down and ate silently. Dudley was going on about something that he did with his friends the other night. No doubt it was a lie - Harry had specifically overheard Dudley on the phone the night before the said day, in his bedroom chatting with a friend in a low voice about graffitti-ing and dismembering the playground, but none the less, he said not a word.

-

After dinner, Harry resumed doing nothing in his bedroom - this nothing involved practicing Summoning Charms (he had not been practicing them much since the Triwizard Tournament and he was, indeed getting a bit rusty, as he had given himself a nosebleed and a black eye.) and finishing Anna-Nicole's book. He once glanced at Aunt Petunia's book, but didn't look through it, as it was pointless to. When he got bored, he pulled on his pajamas, got settled in bed, and closed his eyes. He was sitting on his bed now...looking out a window. This window was in a room he had never seen before...a girl's room...but it wasn't a witch...this was a muggle girl. When he looked down, he saw that the bed he was sitting on wasn't his bed at all. He looked back out the window into the darkness and heard a low swooshing sound...it sounded like a growl...and angry animal growling...then out of nowhere -

"Harry...Harry..." The room vanished and he was looking at the insides of his eyelids.

"Harry..." It was his cousin's voice...but what would he want with Harry at - Harry opened his eyes at looked at his watch - 1:00 AM? He rolled over to look at his big pudgy cousin Dudley.

"What do you want?" he asked, trying to sound threatening, but was too tired to manage it.

"Do you want to er...sneak snacks?" Dudley asked unexpectedly.

"Sorry?" Harry thought he had heard Dudley wrong...his cousin hated him.

"Do you want to go downstairs and get snacks?"

"Why do you want me to?"

"I'm hungry and I don't want to go downstairs by myself."

"Afraid of the dark, are we?"

"No," Dudley said indignantly.

"Allright, Ickle Duddykins." Harry got out of bed and stood up. The two passed through the door and started quietly walking down the hall.

"Myeh...grumble...toads are my " Uncle Vernon let out a large snore after that from the next room. Harry and Dudley both concealed laughter and then, noticing what they were doing, stopped. Dudley cleared his throat and they proceeded down the stairs and into the kitchen. He opened a cabinet and began looking through a selection of chips and crackers and other junk food. Harry went over to him, and Dudley handed him a bag of Cheese Doodles.

"Hold that." he said, looking for more chips. Harry looked around the kitchen...it was horribly dark, only the moonlight coming through the window over the sink was lighting the kitchen. _That's not the window_, he thought automatically, _the one in my dream...that window was in a muggle girl's room...maybe it was in Alice Greenfield's?_

"Come on, grab it!" said Dudley, and Harry turned his head to look at him. He was holding out a bag of tortilla chips, and when Harry took it, it was followed by a jar of unopened salsa. There was a breeze coming through the window and Harry looked at it. It was dark outside as well...almost as dark as the window in his dream. He winced...his scar had just prickled. He shifted the snacks to one arm and lifted his other arm to rub his forehead with that hand.

"Ow!" Harry grabbed a bag of pretzels and his scar again seared with pain. It stopped, then began again, but not ceasing. He dropped the bags of food and the salsa and covered his forehead with both hands. Dudley looked at his cousin because of hearing the splatter of the salsa and the breaking of its glass jar. Harry dropped to his knees and squeezed his eyes shut. Something had happened. Voldemort had just done something...something horrible. He might have killed someone. Images began flashing through Harry's mind and when Dudley spoke, it seemed like it was from miles away. "Harry? Harry what are you doing?"

Harry watched as a scene played through in his head...Voldemort was staring at someone over his wand. The person was wearing a nightcap and striped pajamas. He had a short gray beard and seemed to be whimpering and protesting to Voldemort not to kill him. But he did...and a flash of green light filled the room and the man in the nightcap flopped over, his body landing on the floor of his bedroom with a soft thud. Harry felt as though his head was about to split in half. He began screaming, as loud as his vocal cords would allow, as if it would help the pain. The green light vanished, and Harry was in another person's house...but Voldemort was not there...instead four Death Eaters. Seconds later, Voldemort arrived and took his place at the head of the small congregation. They were in front of a man, also in a nightcap, with red hair.

"You've done enough, Arthur," Voldemort snarled at the man.

"What? What have I done?" the man said, trying not to sound scared.

"Oh, you know. And for you to be killed personally should be an honor. Don't be afraid."

"No...no, please don't - MOLLY" Two teenagers, both with red hair, dashed down the stairs and flew into their father. The green beam of light hit the wall, making a rather large dent there.

"STOP HIM!" The Death Eaters sprang into action...one was running to the pile of the red-heads, his white-blonde hair protruding a bit from the sides of his hood where his face was. The man named Arthur got himself up and scrambled up the stairs. The three others went after the look-alike boys, who Apparated, vanishing into thin air. Voldemort ordered the four upstairs and they all went up.

"Molly...Molly, wake up..." a woman with red hair opened her eyes and looked at her husband, who turned his head to look at the Death Eaters and Voldemort coming through the door of the room.

"Apparate somewhere...anywhere...Fred and George already left, I'll send an owl to them later to meet us somewhere...go on, I'll get the kids" Arthur said in a hushed voice. With a loud crack, Molly vanished. Arthur turned to Voldemort and without thinking, took out his wand and stunned the four Death Eaters with him.

"Ah...Arthur Weasley. Going to get the children, are you? Think you can wipe out all of my little friends? I think not." Voldemort rolled up a sleeve and touched his finger to a black skull tattooed into his arm. Arthur decided to do the unthinkable and ran past Voldemort out the door.

"What is it, Dudley?"

"Harry's dying, mum!"

"Where?" asked Uncle Vernon, trying not to sound excited. Harry became dizzy as the Weasleys' house and Voldemort evaporated, but his scar still burnt terribly. He opened his eyes and looked at his uncle, aunt, and cousin standing there in the kitchen near him amongst a small heap of junk food and spilled salsa.

"They're going to die - he's going to kill them! I have to get to them, I have to help!"

"What are you talking about, boy?" asked Vernon menacingly.

"He's going to kill them too! Just like my parents! I have to save them, I have to! He's not going to be able to get Ron and Ginny out of the house - they're too young to apparate! I need to get there!"

"Who's going to kill who" asked Aunt Petunia. Harry swallowed and tried to catch his breath, realizing all he had spluttered, and who he had spluttered it to.

"You wouldn't care," he said, his voice quivering, "It's only a few of my freak friends." he got up, and sprinted up to his bedroom. He didn't know what to do. What if something did happen? Harry was on Privet Drive in the Muggle world with no way to contact anyone in the Wizarding World so quickly. He remembered the last time something had happened to Mr. Weasley and he could get the news to people quickly because he was in Hogwarts with Dumbledore. But this time, he couldn't do anything to help, and he was the only one who knew.

-

Harry didn't sleep a lot that night - save for a few minutes he got in. He didn't know what to do...by the time five in the morning came, he knew something had already happened and figured it was either something good or something extremely horrible. With that knowledge, he closed his eyes to try to sleep, but only images of the scene he had just witnessed appeared. Finally, he fell asleep for the rest of the night. He didn't dream, he didn't think. He might have dreamt, but it obviously wasn't worth remembering because he was too tired to care. The next morning, he was awakened by the doorbell.

A/N: I changed "that" to "who" HAPPY, LAURIE? Anyway, anyone who knows me well enough to know what my house looks like inside and out will know that there's a little snapshot of my humble abode in this chapter. REVIEWS ROCK, SO WHY DON'T YOU REVIEW ALREADY? I haven't had like ANY.


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